


Thursday Thoughts

by Gadhar



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: M/M, explicit chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of generally small bits that will/can apply to any fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If there was a fire, what would you save?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine
> 
> I'm going to try to update this every week on, surprise, Thursday because I have the free time to write. Taken from a prompt, "If there was a fire what would you save" from Wanderingsmith. I'm hoping to make this whole thing based off prompts or wayward ideas thrown at me. So please, feel free to throw.
> 
> Now I have to go to bed it's 2:30 and I have to be up in 4 hours.

They should be asleep. “Should be” being the operative phrase as they listen to Gunner croon about some old conquest, Lee thinks he sounds half drunk. Oddly enough, he’s stone cold sober and it’s kinda strange because, unless it was the end of some bender, Gunner had never _sounded_ drunk. Acted like a fucking fool yeah, but…

“Alright, alright!” Caesar shouts, shaking his head back and forth and Lee snorts at the look of disgust on his face. “No details man, stop.” 

Gunner shrugs, “Your loss.”

“So what’s next on the ticket, more drunken sex stories?”

“I was not _drunk-“_

“Lee?” 

“Wha’?” He gives Barney a glare over the top of the fire. He rather not be involved in whatever weirdness goes on. He’ll listen sure, if only for the potential blackmail material and laughs but actually _share,_ ha, no, no thank you. 

Barney’s eyes glimmer in the dark and he suddenly looks serious. Not that this isn’t a serious situation. They’re sitting around a fire in the middle of the night in enemy territory on the tail-end of a mission and they’re all laughing like loons but—

Barney still looks unduly serious. 

“If we had a fire,” he says and he looks at the blaze set in the center of the circle. “What would you save?”

_Oh fuck no._

He’s not answering that. He doesn’t even have to think about it but no, he’s not answering that.

“My Merseburg charm.”

Lee rolls his eyes. Partly because that’s stupid old folklore shit and partly because the rest of the guys have no idea what Gunner’s talking about. At least Lee doesn’t have to answer now.

“’S old folktale bullshit,” Lee supplies, stoking the fire and thinning his lips. “German originally though I heard the Swedes made their own.”

“I don’t care if it’s bullshit or not.” Gunner pulls at the chain that have his dog tags, flipping it around to see the ring that setting at the back of them. “I got the scripture right here and I know how to use it.”

“I’d save my family,” Caesar says and no one says a word. 

_Fuckin’ miracle one of us even got that much._

“My books.”

“Which one man you can’t save ‘em all?”

“Barney didn’t say I had to pick! He said what not one. I can save ‘em all if I want to its fucking hypothetical Caesar.”

“That’s not fair because there’s no way you could save all of your books. They’re fucking everywhere.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, the fuck you care anyway—”

“What about you, Christmas?”

Lee snorts, flicking off the dirt from his knife. He notices Toll and Caesar have stopped bickering.

“Wha’ ‘bout me?”

Barney rolls his eyes, corners of his lips twitching. “There’s a fire, what would you save?”

“It’s not a real fire, the fuck it matter?”

“Just a question, Lee.”

“Yeah sourpuss, stop killing the vibe.”

“Fuck off.”

_Annoying lil’ buggers._

Barney gives him a look over the fire, head tilted, and Lee can’t stop his eyes from following the line of his jaw, down his neck to see the edges of tats peeking out, over skin that’s worn and tan. He catches himself too late, Barney’s eyes going black as he leans back.

_Shit goddamn motherfucking fuck._

“What would you save?”

It kindof hangs there. The question, a hook on a line between him and Barney that gets pulled down and down and Lee can’t keep himself braced. Can’t stop himself from being drawn into it and it fucking sucks because the word is out of his mouth before he even realizes how much he actually wants to say it. “You.”

It comes out strong enough, but it sounds rough to his ears. Weak. 

_Fuckin’ hell. Fucking did it this time Christmas, good fucking job._

Lee slides the knife back in his boot, quickly standing before he has any real time to process everyone’s reactions. He can feels eyes staring in to his back but he didn’t see any of them past the dark as pitch gaze in Barney’s eyes. Nothing but the fire lighting them up and there was nothing there to see and why the fuck can’t he remember where his sleeping bag is?

“Me?”

It’s all gravelly, somewhere behind him. Stone crunched under foot as Barney’s voice crunches all the air from his lungs. 

_Of course the bastard would follow._

And he’s got two choices, Lee realizes. He can keep walking and pretend he never said it. Pretend like he didn’t mean it. Pretend like it didn’t have a whole list of changes to go with it. 

Or he can turn around and throw it in Barney’s face. _Yah you stupid fuck I’d save your miserable ass because I love you and I guess that fucking cold detached act you pull didn’t really bloody fucking work now did it?_

So he turns around and he says “Ya, you. I’d fucking save you. I’d save you any goddamn day of the week. Any fucking hour. I could be in the middle of Dr. Who and I’d run to save your ass. I’d give you the last piece of pizza. Fucking sell my Sex Pistols collection. Let you fill up every fucking cupboard with coffee instead of decent British tea. If there was a goddamn fire Barney, I’d walk through the fucking blaze and get you. And if you didn’t come, if you were hurt or I couldn’t move you, then I’d stay right there fucking with you so we could burn together.”

It comes out in one breath and his chest feels tight. 

_Fuckin’ breathe mate, shit._

It feels like he’s ready to hyperventilate. He can’t seem to get any air in or out and he’s just kinda standing there, _waiting_. What the fuck for he doesn’t know and—

_Fuck._

His hands tangle in Barney’s hair, dragging him closer. His tongue sweeps into Lee’s mouth, sliding along his own tongue and whisking against the sides. Barney’s hands are around his waist, pressing their hips together and he damn near falls forward when Barney groans, low and rumbling all the way through Lee’s chest. 

_Motherfucker._

He’s the one pulling away first. A little from shock but mostly for the need for air and he sucks in a shuddering breath, tightening his fingers in Barney’s hair and tugging at the damn _smug_ smirk the man gives him.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because,” Barney pauses and he leans his forehead against Lee’s and all Lee can think is fucking _finally_ because he’s not sure he could have done all that well at pretending had he made the choice just to walk away. Hell he didn’t even really have a plan for what to do after he let it all out so it’s a good thing Barney had his own intentions. 

“Because I’d save you too.”

Lee snorts, leaning in for another kiss, something softer that won’t completely explode his chest. “Like you’d ever have the chance.”


	2. Pastel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Pastel, I'm sorry, this is so not what you wanted, I don't know what happened. 
> 
> I owe a Thursday Thought I know. I got this. Maybe.

He has never been what people thought him to be.

Not even as a child; all skin and stick thin, ribs threatening to poke through, breath something more of a ragged cough that left his chest aching at best. They had called him weak, a pussy, had kicked bruises so deep into him on the playground that he could still feel them some days. But it wasn’t something he took with gritted teeth, hands over his head. He fought, had the nails ripped off his fingers he fought so hard. 

But there’s little you can do when there’s five of them and one of you.

And now they calm him cold, harsh; anger always at his fingertips, ready to lash out; smiles so rare and sharp-toothed when appeared. They think him dead inside. Not pieces or a whole, just nothing. A blank space of darkness with a hardness at its center that makes him a killer, a murderer.

They call him a mercenary. 

It is not a guise he fights, nor one that he embraces. It’s too much a grim mask that he wears for the masses. And when he looks in the mirror he doesn’t see himself as others do. He does not see himself as some coveted being, worthy of the lustful looks from lasses in the supermarket. He is not rock-solid, nor a thick slab of sculpted muscle that breaks heads and bends the wills of enemies. 

He’s not a mercenary, not a soldier, he’s not part of some low-key motorcycle gang. 

He is just himself, staring into a mirror that reflects the jagged crystals of his life, stuck into him and bleeding rich crimson over his hands, warm, as the blackness of his eyes shine with an even smaller light than the day before. 

Somewhere, somehow, he lost himself in all the taunts and beatings. Buried himself under the weight of deaths and suffering. 

There is a crispness to the air, raising the hair along his arms, that feels like ice in his lungs when he breathes. Cicadas trill in trees off the side of the porch and their song is a whirring in his ears like white noise. 

And he is buried under the weight of thick muscle and a strength that comes not from hardness, but from the softness of humanity that’s centered at Barney’s heart. 

The ice in Lee’s lungs melts under the touch of Barney’s tongue, sweeping inside his mouth and curling; stroking. And he is warmed, by the touch of hands that move with an ease over his arms, curling around his neck and then sliding along his sides, under his shirt, brushing sensitive and making Lee’s toes curl. 

He thinks about those bruises pressed into him, clenching with pain and folding under themselves as the heel of Barney’s palm presses at his crotch. Coaxing. And the pain turns in on itself too as he wraps his arms around Barney’s neck, surging up with this sort of burning need that’s always for Barney in the way that Lee needs to feel something other than stabbing shards in his skin. Needs to feel wanted and needs to just _feel._

“Hush,” Barney murmurs into his neck, fingers pushing into his pants, pushing at the softness at his own center and he quivers, and he realizes Barney’s talking about the keening noises he’s making in the back of his throat. 

The floor creaks under them and there’s nothing at his back. He might just fall into the night and disappear. That’s what it feels like when Barney’s hand is around them both, stroking and pulling, tugging and twisting. He feels as though he is not here, nothing, he’s not a solid thing that is crushed under the weight of things anymore. He is a part of Barney, almost. Nothing but atmosphere to Barney’s firm standing feet, his heavy presence that soaks Lee to the bone. 

And he comes, shuddering and leaning into Barney, feeling that wash of relief as everything slips away and he’s left in the darkness, leaned against something solid, something warm but he is alone. On his own and shivering, small and in the dark, bruises bleeding into his insides. 

“Hey.” 

Lee opens his eyes, feels the swirl of the cicadas trill and the cold air in his lungs and Barney’s eyes are dark and soft, easy with afterglow and he’s smiling like he knows. 

“Love you.”

Lee shivers, kisses Barney’s jawline, entwines their fingers, lets out a breath and smiles back. “Love you too.”


	3. The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not Thursday....but...

The bag jerks back with the force of the blow and Lee doesn't bother to give it much time to recover, already sending a left hook out before it's even fully swung back into his space. He can feel the recoil of it all the way up his arm, settling somewhere near his shoulder blade as a solid weight of pain but he ignores it, bowling on through to the next blow. 

He's not even sure what he's mad about. It might be internalized, something he did that he's mad about; maybe external, dumb fucks in the real world, the job, he's not sure. He hasn't really bothered to analyze the reasons. All he knows is he woke up this morning with that burning anger. That kind of energy that crawled over your bones, made you wanna claw your skin off, and started that subtle shake in your hands that meant you just _had_ to hit something. Just to take the edge off. 

He's been hitting for a while now. It started with stretches, a few katas just to get him centered. But he couldn't. Couldn't get his mind settled, he was too restless. So he started laying into the bag and here he was an hour later, arms strained and tired, feeling the stretch in his abdomen. 

The edge was off, but that energy was still there. This deep resonant hum in his bones. Constant. It felt like it was going to drive him crazy. 

He's felt it before, years ago now. When he was younger and out of the military with no clue what the hell to do with his life. Thrust back into the world under the actualities of betrayal and abandonment. Lost. Rolling around in a constant rage that only dulled with the liquor. 

He nearly forgot what it was like, it had been so long. It was one of those things, only satisfying because of how unsatisfying it was. Constant quest for some kind of calm. A calm that was near unreachable. 

You didn't get rid of the anger, it just—faded. The energy directed towards something else and then it was just...dormant. It was maddening that way. It's inescapability. 

Lee hugged the bag for the moment, just to feel the pull as he slowed it down. And then he started over again. He was just punching away, not bothering with combinations or any sensible movements. It was just _I'm gonna hit it and hit it as hard as possible and fuck everything else._

"Lee?"

Barney's voice clashed with the thumps against the bag, voice pitched too high, too concerned to be anywhere near the usual gravel that Lee found calming. 

He heard his name again, maybe even a third time, but he couldn't pull himself from the bag. He just had to get this out, get rid of this energy, and taking it out on the bag was at least cutting into it a little. 

And then Barney was on the other side of the bag, holding it, eyes boring into Lee and things just kind of slid into place. The thoughts of _hit, hit, hit_ twisted into something else and the blood roaring in his ears sounded like his heartbeat. 

"Fuck me."

"What?"

Lee started taking off his gloves, pulling at the Velcro with his teeth. _"Fuck. Me."_

Lee dropped the gloves and came around the bag, grabbing Barney's face with his hands and diving in. His teeth caught Barney's bottom lip hard enough to taste blood and they were stumbling backwards, Barney's push back at him the only thing keeping them vertical. 

"Here?" Barney stuttered out against his lips but his hands were already under Lee's wifebeater, lifting it up.

"Fuck yeah."

There was a slight dip of Barney's chin, something akin to a shrug Lee would guess and then the wifebeater was going over his head covering his eyes but not his mouth and Barney's lips were back on his and he couldn't see shit but fuck he didn't care. 

"Hard as you can, fucking throw me on the ground and fuck me _blind."_

"Shit, Lee." 

Barney's hand found the back of his neck, just as he got Lee's shirt off completely and then he was pulling Lee down to the floor, one hand at Lee's pants. 

"The fuck's gotten into you?"

Lee answered the question by rolling his hips against Barney's, sucking down Barney's groan and pulling insistently at Barney's waistband. 

"Alright, alright. Christ, you'll be the death of me."

He made sure Barney knew he wasn't fucking around- no foreplay, no teasing, just brutal fucking here on the goddamn mat because he fucking needed it and everything else be damned if Barney wasn't good at giving him what he needed.

The stretch burned and Barney pushed into him with a force and urgency that Lee would wager he’s only ever seen on the battlefield. And he stilled, waiting for the coming thrust that would rock him forward.

When it came it was tentative and Lee had to reach around, thread his fingers in Barney’s hair and jerk him closer to get him to really move. It took a few down and dirty tongue-fucks to do it, to get Barney’s eyes blown wide and dark, get that set to his jaw that meant hard pounding determination in making Lee scream.

And God isn’t that what it fucking felt like, all that angry energy that was thrumming through his bones was sharpening into a needlepoint, arrowing down to his cock. He was pushing back against Barney, matching pace and trying to go as deep as possible so he’d feel it for a week. 

Barney had a bruising grip on his hips, balls slapping against his ass, pants and hot, open-mouthed kisses littering his back, shoulders and neck. He could feel the constant growl at the back of Barney’s throat vibrating against his skin and he felt the same primal need himself. “Harder, just – fuck – _harder._ ”

“Fuck. _Lee…_ ” He slowed, just a bit, and the thrusts got harder, arm pressing on Lee’s throat hard, hand wrapping around his cock and stroking— _so fucking good._

Lee closed his eyes, gave himself over to the rocking motion and the intensity of it as it coursed through him, hard, hot and wet, bowling him over until he was keening, arching up against Barney’s body and coming undone in his hand. 

Barney was a close behind, taking a few more strokes, thrusting right up and sending stars in front of Lee’s eyes with the sensations and Lee was clenching around him, drawing him in. “Jesus – _fuck.”_

Lee snorted, letting the high float over him as Barney collapsed on top of him, all heavy as fuck muscle and dead weight and the still short puffs of breath against his back said Barney was probably just as exhausted as he was. He could curl up and sleep right here, that edge to his mind finally gone, not cutting into his chest with its suffocating energy. 

“You know this is a fucking public gym right?”

Lee laughed, even more so at the agitated growl Barney made at having his pillow move. “I rented it for the whole day, I think it’s fine.”

“So you planned this?” And there’s an edge of a skepticism, even a little bit of _I swear to god if you say yes, I’m gonna tie your ass to the bed because this is not something we should be doing you crazy bastard._

Lee’s skin prickled at the thought. “No. But this is definitely a lot better than beating the shit out of that bag.”

Barney didn’t answer him, didn’t really have to because Lee knew what he was thinking, he said it all the stupid smirk on his face as he got up, pulling Lee up with him and pulling up their pants, wandering off to retrieve their shirts. 

“Come on, I have a list of better things we could be doing.”


	4. Chest Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can imagine him, on joining the military to feel like he is now protecting others, getting a massive tat across the chest. maybe with hints of 'motherland' and queen and country.  
> barney sees the tat and you KNOW he's gonna be all but drooling....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For wanderingsmith
> 
> Oh my god look, written and posted on a Thursday ain't that a first? Granted it's still technically Wednesday because I haven't been to bed yet, I don't give a shit that it's almost 3 a.m. but still, getting better. *fist pump*
> 
> Hopefully, this balances out the angst a little bit. Even though there may be a touch of angst anyway. *whines* I'm trying!

Lee twitches in his hands. Every light, glancing touch—fingers trailing along his sides, tracing along the lines of muscles—to the more firmer, insistent movements—a thumb sliding over a nipple, nail dragging along the crease between abs—has Lee shivering, the barest ripples of skin as he arches into and away from Barney at the same time. 

His lips are so close, brushing against Barney’s but they’re not kissing, not yet; because Barney just likes to feel the bare exhales of air on his lips when his hands find a sensitive spot—Lee’s mouth falling open just that little bit more, the faint pink-red of a blush darkening just that little bit more. 

Barney touches his lips to the corner of Lee’s mouth, the arch of a cheekbone, his nose; brushes his cheek against Lee’s temple as rolls his pelvis against Lee’s hip. He grinds down again, hand on the side of Lee’s face as they move together, sharing breaths and air and Lee makes some soft, sweet noise that makes Barney’s chest hurt with all the emotion there. It feels like he’s drowning and taking his deepest breaths at the same time. 

Lee rocks against his thigh—this smooth push-pull motion, like a tide. His fingers are clutching at the fabric of Barney’s button-up, twisting the fabric between his fingers and flexing on the upstrokes.

Barney moves a hand down between them, pushes as the waistband of Lee’s jeans until he can rub the soft skin on the front of Lee’s hip and he savors the brief stillness of surprise, the way Lee’s eyes widen for a second, freezing in his arch before the spike of sensation fades enough that he goes back to grinding, soft grunt making it past his lips.

The pace changes, Lee rocking up harder so Barney leans his weight forward, pushing down on Lee to keep him still and the blatant whine in Lee’s throat makes Barney want to flip him over and fuck him; cheeks spread, cock balls deep inside him, hearing him moan Barney’s name. 

But not yet. 

Instead he pushes his hands under Lee’s shirt, pushing it up towards his head, revealing flexing abs that have a power under them that Barney wants to feel. He switches his gaze back towards Lee’s face, brushing their lips together before pulling the shirt over Lee’s head and leaning back, breath catching in his throat. 

He presses his palm to the center of Lee’s chest, watches the ink rise and fall with his breathing, shimmering in the light. “Fuck.”

Lee stiffens and there’s a bleed of tension through him that makes Barney’s skin prickle. “Forget it,” it’s half breathy with a sigh but Barney can still hear the crack in it. 

“’S beautiful,” is all he says before smoothing his hands over it again, feeling Lee’s heart kick. And it is. It’s a black and white piece, wings of ethereal fire spanning the pecs, sword riding his sternum, surrounded by detailed filigree, Union Jack twisted around the blade in tatters, a cracked crown balanced on the hilt. 

He slides his hand under Lee and grabs a handful of ass, dragging him closer. Barney runs his tongue along the lines of ink, follows it with his lips across Lee’s chest one way and then back again, laving at the hollows and dips in his skin. 

He can still feel the tension when he slides up to Lee’s face, tongue stroking into his mouth, hands working off his jeans. He pulls away to let Lee pull off his shirt, then his pants, undressed until their grinding against each other, skin on skin and he brushes his fingers over the tat again, groaning at the way it stretches and flexes over muscles. “’S beautiful,” he repeats. “Like you.” And his tongue dives into Lee’s mouth again, curling around Lee’s tongue, warmth blossoming in his chest as he works a finger into Lee, stroking, mimicking the motions of his tongue as he curls and strokes, brushes and rubs. 

Lee’s curling against him, pressing hot lips to his chest as twists on Barney’s fingers, fucking himself slow and his eyes flutter when he clenches down, picture perfect ecstasy. Barney’s already leaking when he rocks forward, burying himself deep and moaning. 

Lee’s legs drag him in deeper with every thrust, keeping him held close and wrapped tight and Barney can’t decide if he wants to feel the power in Lee’s legs or his chest as they move. He ends up going back to the tat, hands hooking under Lee’s arms so he can go faster. His face against Lee’s chest, the smell of Lee thick in his nose making him light-headed, heady and just all sex and need and sweat, he circles his tongue around a nipple, letting Lee’s hands in his hair guide him. 

When he thrusts up, hard, cock brushing Lee’s prostate, that sweet noise comes back to him again; small and high, hidden beneath all the gravel of Lee’s “fuck”s, “yes”s and breathy “Barney”s. He thinks about how he had wanted to nail Lee against the side of his truck all those years ago; about the time he caught himself wanting Lee’s lips wrapped around his cock, a bottle of Glenfiddich close by; the time Lee came to his place bloody and grinning from a bar fight and Barney just wanted Lee to fuck him senseless. 

He thinks about all that and the tattoo that’s a black mural on Lee’s chest and regrets having never seen it before; regrets not being able to tell Lee, before now, that he gets it. 

“’S all you,” he says between kisses, ducking his head at the tattoo. And he fucks the confusion off Lee’s face in the same instant, thrusts up and deep and listens to the snap of his hips against Lee’s ass to get him into a solid rhythm as he sucks on Lee’s tongue. 

Fucking and groaning and moaning, Lee keening and arching up into him, nails biting into his shoulders; Lee lets go with a noise Barney can from his heart down to his cock and in a few strokes he’s falling with Lee, into him. His vision grays out a little as he keeps fucking Lee through the sensation, staying shallow and light until he can’t hold himself up anymore and he’s spent.

Lee wraps his arms around Barney’s neck and the kiss is all lips with tongue at the seams of mouths, but it’s soft and it’s about the movement. 

He falls asleep with his head on Lee’s chest, watching the torn off corner of a burning flag float on the puffs of air as Lee snores, hand in Barney’s hair.


	5. Could it be I'm Falling in Love Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He thinks about how he had wanted to nail Lee against the side of his truck all those years ago; about the time he caught himself wanting Lee’s lips wrapped around his cock, a bottle of Glenfiddich close by; the time Lee came to his place bloody and grinning from a bar fight and Barney just wanted Lee to fuck him senseless._  
>  ummmmmm, all lovely... other thursdays?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not Thursday, I don't give a fuck. Not sure if it's because I'm moody that I actually managed to write something or what, but look I managed to write something and it's not wrought with angst. Progress.

He’s not sure what does it. If it’s in the small way that Lee leans forward, just that slight lean into Barney as though he’s looking for something (for what Barney doesn’t know but he can’t exactly complain about the close proximity) or if it’s the way his eyes seem to change (not color or anything near like a perceptive change in feeling just this slight change in direction, in gaze, in weight) as though he’s gone from looking _at_ Barney to _into_ him. It could, quite possibly, even be simply because the sun is bright and yellow and the air more crisp and fresh than it’s been all summer and for some reason Barney just feels _different._

It could even have been the morning run; that good burning beat of his heart, sweat damp down the crease of his back and Lee at his side, bouncing from foot to foot at stops, vibrant energy coming off him in waves strong enough to leave Barney a little overwhelmed. 

They’ve been spending more time together, feeling out the lengths of this friendship, the ins and the outs, where things are drawn. It’s hard; hard because they’ve no longer got bullets at their back and blood in their teeth to force them over lines and into each other’s space and mind. They’ve got to do it themselves now and Barney finds himself unsure; at a loss for footing. And it’s a bit jarring to be so uncertain of where to step. They’re not even in the ring with each other where he can follow the flow of energy and battle and ride the wave of instinct, countering against strikes and kicks and ducking under hooks. 

Instead they’re in the parking lot and Lee’s move isn’t a jab it’s the barest of a lean forward and Barney finds himself noticing things he’s noticed before but never actually _noticed_ ; like Lee’s eyes (stormy in that they never seem to mellow, always displaying all his emotions right there for Barney to read and they’re all so strong and there’s so _many_ ) or the hard line of his jaw (sharp and defined, roughed over in stubble) or the way his throat moves and how it connects to his shoulders and how Lee looks really good in a tee shirt and he’d probably look even better without one.

The thought makes him swallow and then he’s leaning forward too. His feet aren’t moving but he feels like they are, feels like he’s moving to; moving forward and down until Lee’s lips are right there, just a cut under his and he could—

“Barney?”

He swallows, tries to stop the shivers down his spine at the voice (so soft and _innocent_ and so much like Lee and not Lee at the same time), “Yeah?”

Lee’s nostrils flare, and out of the corner of his eye Barney sees something move, the shadow of it, and Lee says “What” and finishes the question with his lips against Barney’s (soft and moving, tongue pressing into his mouth and stroking). 

Lee’s hand slides into his hair, fingers curling in tight, and there’s another hand curved around his bicep, digging in with a hard grip (hanging on for dear life) and Barney finds himself leaning forward again, pressing Lee up against the passenger door of his truck and when he opens his eyes he can see himself kissing Lee in the window reflection and Lee makes a noise at the feeling of their hips fitting together. 

Barney wants to fuck him. 

The thought blindsides him, knocking him off his feet except he’s still standing and he’s still kissing Lee and he might be leaning all his weight on Lee, hands tight on the Brit’s hips and for a moment he thinks they could just do this forever and then Barney will fuck him forever and he’s not sure how that’ll work, logically, but it will, he’ll make it.

And then he’s being shoved back, the hands that were clutching at him pushing him away and it makes his chest tight and he’s not really sure _why_ and Lee’s got his head bowed, leaning against the truck with his hands running over his head and Barney thinks he might be hyperventilating. 

He stands there, unsure again, wondering if that was the wrong move, wondering if he just fucked things up irrevocably and Lee won’t look at him and Barney wants to demand that he should but he stays quiet because Lee looks so red that Barney thinks he might even be angry. 

Lee looks at him, eventually, and Barney wonders what’s in his face that makes Lee try to smile and fail. “I just…slow down. Yeah? Just slow down.” 

They slow down so much they’re still standing there for another ten minutes. All the while Barney still can’t read Lee. Did he fuck up? He can’t tell. Was it unwanted? Did he just force himself on his best friend and now Lee’s trying to act like it’s okay?

“Lee.” 

He says it the way he has to; like he’s begging. Maybe he is. He doesn’t know anymore. He’s waiting for a jab, a hook, a kick, something he can react to. 

And Lee just looks up at him and smiles and says “slow down.”


	6. Could it be I'm Falling in Love Pt.2

Slow down apparently means not moving one goddamn bit in Lee’s world and while Barney finds himself entirely entitled to his completely rational frustration and uneasiness he still feels as though he should’ve know; should’ve known it was too much to throw at Lee at once, too much to make him process when he hadn’t even really processed the idea of friendship or even having a new lease on life by signing up with the Expendables; and too much to expect Lee to be able to figure it out in a timely manner because while the Brit could be downright anal retentive about schedules and protocols, when it came to himself one minute could be three hours and apparently slow down meant stop for an indecipherable amount of time.

Barney’s more than happy to give the time, he really is. But it’s working against him all the same. He sees Lee but it’s no longer just _Lee that guy on the team_ it’s _oh fuck it’s Lee shit he looks good fuck fuck need to fuck shit fuck fuck fuck_ and Barney’s always left standing there, staring at Lee or in more fortunate times the floor, and he’s stuck in his mental version of a full-blown porno and it’s making things hard. 

He honestly can’t remember the last time he was this worried about something; this engaged. The last fling or anything remotely resembling any kind of intimacy had been years ago and since then he’s practically given up. It’s been a while since he’s actually given a shit about someone too.  
Barney gives himself leeway in that regard. If he’s just that little bit distracted at least he knows the reasons and he doesn’t plan on rushing into anything much less rushing Lee. 

The tightness in his chest when he thinks about it though is wholly unfamiliar and makes him all levels of nervous and uncomfortable. And it doesn’t ease any even when he’s jerking off in the sheets with Lee’s smile in his head. 

He works with it though. He really does. They go on their morning runs and he doesn’t stare and he doesn’t hover unusually close. He gives Lee his space and doesn’t say anything weird. 

It all probably adds up to him acting awkward as fuck but he’s not really sure there’s anything he can do about that. It’s either shove Lee up against the wall or be awkward, there is no in-between. Barney has never had the social skills or even patience for there to be an in-between.

There is a minute shift though, not to the point where Barney can do any of things he wants to do with Lee or to him but enough that he knows there’s something different. There are meals at his place, meals at actual restaurants, and they talk. It’s not just missions and hobbies but actual weird awkward passing comments about their lives, family, and thoughts. 

Add to that the look Lee’s always giving him—one entirely undecipherable to Barney—and Barney ends up utterly confused about everything and anything.

He’s pretty sure it’s even more awkward now. They’re at Barney’s place, Lee and his bottle of Glenfiddich having strutted their way in about half an hour ago and he stares at Lee over the top of his glass pretending as though he’s listening to every word Lee says. 

The truth is he was listening to every third word but gave up because he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering up and down Lee’s figure—tight shirt, loose jeans, sliver of skin peeking out from under his top every time he lifts his glass to drink. He’s driving Barney crazy and seems to be completely oblivious to doing it.

Lee’s lips curl around his glass again as he takes another drink, but this time when he pulls of the glass his lips make this wet popping noise that makes Barney shiver.

And then Lee’s on his knees in front of him, Barney’s cock in the back of his throat as he moans hands gripping Barney’s thighs as Barney fucks his mouth. He’s still sipping Glenfiddich the surface of the alcohol shimmering with waves as Barney’s hand clenches and unclenches around the glass.

Lee’s mouth pulls off just as Barney’s ready to lose it and he slides back up to his feet, all slick panther-like movements and his mouth brushes against Barney’s ear, voice low and lilting as he says “Come fuck me, Barney.”

It’s fucking teasing, playing hell with his frayed control and he almost reaches out to wrap his hand around the back of Lee’s neck, tug him closer and—

“Barney?”

He blinks in the low light of the kitchen. Lee’s glass is empty, his eyes narrowed in confusion, maybe a touch of concern. Barney’s jaw works but he can’t actually come up with anything to say because his mind’s stuck on a replay of the word _shit._

“You ok?”

Barney shifts around the corner of the counter until it’s between him and Lee and the discomfort of his jeans actually gets him to focus a little bit, kicking his brain back on. “Yeah, sorry, just had a…a thought.”

“Damn, that’s a first. Didn’t hurt yourself did you?”

He gives Lee a wry, flat look, corner of his lip twitching. “No, I’m miraculously okay for having my first bout with intelligence. I’d say that’s a sight better than how you’ve been doing.”

Lee snorts, putting his glass in the sink. “Yeah, guess I still need to recover some, you too probably. It’s late, so I’m gonna go.”

The sudden pain in his chest wipes his mind clean and he steps up next to Lee, placing his own glass in the sink. The smell of Lee’s aftershave clings in the air and Barney hopes it stays in his kitchen for a while. “Run tomorrow?”

Lee smiles, it’s a small thing and he looks at the floor when he answers with a simple “sure”, opening Barney’s front door. “You gotta get some sleep then, if you plan to keep up.”

“Sure thing, Christmas.”

Lee shuts the door and Barney listens until he hears the startup of the Ducati; its energetic thrum fills the night and sits there a few minutes, just humming. Then the tires are spinning, gravel kicking up and the engines thrum fades the farther away Lee drives.

Barney turns back to the kitchen, sees Lee’s Glenfiddich sitting on the counter still. It’s eerily quiet as Barney puts the Glenfiddich inside a cabinet, the house doesn’t even shriek in the wind. 

He wishes he’d have kissed Lee before the Brit left.


End file.
